


A Coupla Southern Physicists Sittin' Around Talkin'

by fourteenlines



Category: Angel: the Series, Farscape
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22252465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourteenlines/pseuds/fourteenlines
Summary: John Crichton.  Fred Burkle.  Crazy lost physics geeks, theoretically in the same country at the same time.
Kudos: 6





	A Coupla Southern Physicists Sittin' Around Talkin'

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Farscape Friday challenge. Crossover that's been wanting to be written for a very long time. Sigh. Set during Terra Firma and after Supersymmetry in the Angel-verse. The title is a blatant rip-off of the play _A Coupla White Chicks Sittin' Around Talkin'_ about which I know nothing but the title.
> 
> Originally posted circa 2003.

A soft voice spoke from the doorway. He looked up from his notes. 

"Excuse me, Dr. Crichton?" She had a slight southern drawl that made him smile. 

" _Doctor_ Crichton," he said, letting his own vowels lengthen and soften. "'S been awhile since I've been called that." 

She was a pretty girl; petite, brown hair, wearing a ubiquitous white lab coat. She smiled and stepped into the room. "I'll bet it has," she agreed enthusiastically. Mumbled something else in a softer voice. 

"'Scuse me?" 

She smiled again and shook her head. "Nothing. Sorry. Winifred Burkle. You can call me Fred." She extended her hand; they shook. 

"John." 

She nodded. "The editor of _Quarterly Physics Review_ got me a pass. Through an old professor of yours from MIT, I guess. Don't know if you were expecting me, though I expect you have an awful lot of other things on your mind even if you were expecting..." Fred broke off abruptly and took a deep breath. "Sorry. Ramble when I'm nervous." 

John grinned back at her. "No problem. Yeah, I remember something about that. What was it you wanted?" 

"Well..." Fred hesitated. "It's, you see...you see. It's about dimensional portals. Wormholes, I guess. Supersymmetry, actually. String theory." 

"You got a theory, huh? About wormhole travel?" 

She blushed. "Not exactly. More like, how it's possible." 

He laughed. "Yeah, okay. Let me understand this. I've had a whole bunch of people trying to get me to tell them how this whole thing works since the moment I got here. But you want to tell _me_ how it works?" 

"I know it's presumptuous..." 

"No, not at all. That's not what I meant. Please." He motioned for her to sit. 

She did, uncomfortably. "There are a lot of people in the scientific - not to mention religious - communities who are saying that your...unexpected arrival has stirred things beyond comprehension. Beyond hope, I guess is what they meant; that everything has to be rethought." 

Ouch. 

She continued, "There are a lot people who are probably gonna use the old head-in-the-sand method, and believe me, I don't blame them. But you see, I was actually kind of relieved. Because I've been working on a theory. A superstring theory, based on some, um, experiences I've had. And this whole wormhole thing only makes them more plausible." 

"Them?" 

"The, uh, experiences." 

"Uh-huh." 

Unexpectedly, she asked, "What did you miss most when you were gone? I mean, your family, obviously, but, and this is going to sound silly, but what...foods did you miss most while you were gone?" 

Disarmed, he looked at her sideways, but he couldn't help but smile at the thought. "Chocolate. Pizza. Beer. The usual things. And some stuff I didn't expect to be so glad to have again. My sister's homemade grits and cheese, for starters. Chicken-friend steak. Fried green tomatoes." The very idea was making him hungry. 

"Ooh." Her whole face lit up. "It's been so long since I've had really good fried green tomatoes. Can't get 'em in L.A. You ever been to San Antonio? There's this diner, where you can get... Well." She stopped talking altogether. Maybe she only had two modes: on and off. 

"Um, Fred? I have to ask..." 

"Enchiladas," she said quietly. 

"Huh?" 

"That's what I missed most." 

John took a moment to let the implications sink in. "Oh." 

She looked up at him, a kind of desperation on her face. "When I think sometimes about how much I've paid, what I've done..." 

"Stop. Don't." How could she possibly know? 

She nodded. "I just thought...I've had some trouble. Getting my theories accepted. I'm sure you understand. But I thought, since you've obviously had some, um, experiences of your own, you might..." 

"Yeah. Yeah, I get it." 

"It's space-time, isn't it? That's the key." 

He snorted laughter. "I've heard that one before, yeah. 'Time is nothing, and yet it's all there is.'" 

She paused. "That's... Well that's just a bunch of hooey, isn't it?" She smiled again. It was kind of a sharp little smile, and he wasn't sure he liked it. "Doesn't mean a damn thing when you think about it." She got that excited look in her eyes again and said, "But I really think it's all about space-time. I think there could be a real unification theory here. I think...well, it's kind of obvious, seeing as how you got here through a wormhole, but even before I was convinced that its structure can be rearranged. Reconnected in a predetermined disposition, actually, and..." 

"And therefore allow for all sorts of things, including time travel and space travel at great distances." 

"Faster than the speed of light, yeah. It's the only thing that accounts for it all. From quantum mechanics to cosmic theory. The only thing I haven't figured out...completely, anyway. Or I guess, scientifically, is who's doing the predetermining. And if it's random or purposeful." 

"Fate or free will." 

"Exactly. I mean, not exactly. More like fate versus self-determination. But that's...a long debate. And I can't stay long. I'm only in town for the day. I have to get back to... Well." She picked up her bag and started moving toward the door. He walked her in that direction. "Dr. Crichton? I was wondering...if maybe you'd like a copy of my notes?" She produced a sheaf of paper and held it out to him shyly. 

John took it, smiling. "Sure. You got an address I can send some stuff to? I think you might be able to make some sense of this mess," he gestured to the papers strewn over the desk, "but my IASA colleagues wouldn't be very happy with me." 

She gave him her most blinding smile yet. "Oh! I'd love that. You can get my address from the _Quarterly Review._ But you won't get in trouble?" 

"Frell 'em." Her eyes widened a little. "Sorry. Probably doesn't translate." 

"Oh no, that translated loud and clear," she assured him. 

He grinned. Maybe there was hope for the human race after all. 


End file.
